


Dream a little dream of me.

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Dreaming, I should be less mean with my gifts, M/M, Oblivious!Spock, is that a thing?, yearning!Jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:13:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreams can be strong, heady things; things that reveal more about ourselves then we might realize. And Spock might be hearing things his Captain would rather he hadn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream a little dream of me.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theproblematique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theproblematique/gifts).



* * *

# Dream a little dream of me.

* * *

* * *

**_  
_**

O

 

_Steal my breath away_   
_Cause I'm so moved by you_   
_Deeper than I ever thought_   
_Was possible, was possible, it's everything, oh_   
_Difference between me and you_   
_It's all in where your heart lies_   
_And every day's another chance_   
_So let's get it right..._

 

O

 

* * *

Jim shivered as warm breath cascaded down his bare back, making his skin tingle. Blue eyes cracked open, blinking fuzzily at the far wall as he felt an equally warm face press softly against the skin between his shoulder blades, turning with slow, lethargic movements; the tickle of eyelashes, blinking against his skin; the brush of a thin, strong nose, a caress in and of its self. Lips moulding to his flesh, before skimming down his back, following the curve of his spine; he sighed softly, letting his eyes close and he relaxed against the mattress, giving into the slow, lulling pleasure of the touches. He twitched as Spock pressed his lips to the curve of his ribs, making a token protest at the ticklish sensation; the lips lingered a moment, and he could almost feel the warm amusement that would be in the Vulcan’s rich, dark eyes.

Hands continued their journey down his body, sliding over skin with an almost reverent touch. It felt, to Jim, like his First Officer was cataloguing each muscle, each millimetre of skin, committing it to memory as he had each of his caption’s movements, all his smiles; each one of his laughs. The sheets rustled with each of Spock’s movements, tickling his ears with the soft noise. It was matched by the slow, even breathes of his Vulcan, as he stroked Jim’s skin, summoning the human for sleep with his careful, gentle touches. Jim shifted in the nest of fabric, moving just enough to look over his shoulder; Spock lounged beside him, calves visible where he’d kicked off the sheet. The Vulcan rested on one elbow, tracing vertebrae in Jim’s spine with one long finger as his gaze moved across Jim’s back. His normally perfect hair was mussed, yet still seemed to retain that artful perfection that was so common with his First Officer, looking as perfect with his mussed hair as he did when not a hair was out of place.

Jim chuckled, dragging his hand up to rub the grit from his eyes.

Spock made a soft noise of query, glancing up at him. Jim smiled, twisting his body until he was curled on his side, facing Spock. He reached out, brushing his fingers over the messy black strands.

“You’re hair a mess,” he explained, speaking softly. He didn’t want to raise his voice, and break the strange sense of peace that filled the room. It was the same sort of not-to-be-dwelled-on, living-in-the-moment sort of harmony he’d felt as a kid, when he’d lay on his stomach in the living room, watching golden particles of dust float in a beam of late-afternoon sunlight. He didn’t want to rush, and break the moment, holding it carefully in his mind.

Spock leaned into his touch, a thoughtful expression in his clear brown eyes. “It is,” he agreed after a moment, touching his fingers to Jim’s.  A sort of tingling feeling started in his finger tips, just like the kind he got when he brushed his lips over Spock’s, except different, more subdued. Gentler. 

Jim twined their hands together, stroking his thumb slowly over Spock’s palm, watching his face carefully as he did. The Vulcan’s breathe caught, green blush rising in the tips of his ears, a fainter shadow of it blooming over his face. Vulcan hands, as he’d learned, were very sensitive. In fact, simple human gestures of affection- like the one he was doing just then- were considered extremely erotic, unfit for public. He hadn’t understood it before, but now- thanks to last night- Jim had a better grasp on some of the quirkier rules of Vulcan edict. And anatomy.

He’s lips curled in a sly smile, and he lifted Spock’s hand to his mouth, uncurling his fingers to place a soft kiss to his palm. The Vulcan stiffened, and his green blush intensified, turning his ears emerald as he tried in vain to keep his composure. But he didn’t remove his hand.

Emboldened, Jim kissed the base of Spock’s palm, then the middle joint of each finger, smiling as each of Spock’s breathes came faster than the last, as his First Officer did a remarkable job at keeping the soft sounds in. Unperturbed, Jim continued his careful attack, pressing his lips to each of the Vulcan’s fingertips, starting at the little finger. By the time he reached his index finger, Spock was panting, face flushed, staring up at Jim with naked longing in his dark eyes.

It took only a smile, and a careful tug to bring the Vulcan up his captain’s body, pressing his lips firmly to the smiling ones of the man beneath him. One sly gold hand snuck around Spock’s back, pulling him snugly against Jim. He squirmed a bit, moving so Jim’s ribs didn’t dig into his own, and settled down into the kiss, twining Vulcan fingers with human ones as they rolled in the sheets.

 

Sometime later, Jim lay with his head on Spock’s chest, listening to the echo of his heart beat. Their hands rested by his eyes, fingers still twined, palms pressed together. He examined them as Spock’s hot desert breath washed over him.

“Spock,” he began, than stopped, shaking his head minutely at the Vulcan’s soft noise. “No, never mind. It’s... nothing...” he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the Vulcan’s throat.

“Just forget about it.”

* * *

* * *

At first, he couldn’t place what had woken him. The Vulcan blinked slowly at the ceiling, turning his head to regard the far wall. The soft noise came again, tickling his ears even through the steel of the wall. Spock sat up, standing slowly. Three heart beats and the noise came again. Perturbed, he stepped closer, until he could lay his head against the wall. The noise was clearer.

How strange. It almost sounded like the captain was saying his name.

**Author's Note:**

> this was suppose to be a multi-chapter. I don't know how much interest there's going to be, and I don't know where to go. So it's thrown to the fandom. Be it on you to judge the fate of it, if it stays a one shot of becomes a three shot. Suggestions are always welcome.
> 
> the song is "We are One" by Kelly Sweet.


End file.
